


Tales of Serana

by SupercalifragilisticexpertwritinBullshit



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10031312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupercalifragilisticexpertwritinBullshit/pseuds/SupercalifragilisticexpertwritinBullshit
Summary: Brief Stories of Serana Volkihar's Life. Just think of it as Serana's personal journal.





	1. Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I wrote these brief stories as I was Role Playing Serana on Tumblr if you're like a real stalker you'll probably find out who I am. Ha ha let's hope not. Anyways a friend told me I should share them. I hope you like them. I'll write them whenever my muse is in Serana mode.

# Reborn

At one point in her life Serana and her family enjoyed life, as King, Queen and Princess of their land. They enjoyed life so much that the thought of dying was unbearable to live with. They searched for any knowledge on anything about immortality. Finally rumors of the vampiric race came to them, the immortality and power that came with it. They didn’t want to contact any disease that would befoul their name and lineage. They wanted the _pure_ blood, the strong bloodline. They tried to persuade and bribe the few vampire lords and daughters to bestow them the gift, however, none accepted. Lost they had no choice but to chose the path of the ritual. They sworn their allegiance to Molag Bal and thus began the bloodflow of the innocent. At first it started in very few amounts, the criminals, murders, and other scum. To take their lives, seemed almost just and right. Though the jails empty fast and criminals weren’t so easy to find. They began to find any reason to imprison an innocent. Lord Harkon created stricter laws and was able to increase the flow of blood, disobedient servants and lost travelers, who didn’t know any better to wonder into Skyrim. Her family exchanged gold for prisoners from Highrock, Hammerfell, Cyrodiil, and Morrowind filled another half of the debt due. Wars were started to increase imprisoning and murder for her father, all this lit Skyrim aflame.

No one with a hint of morality can forget their first kill. The kill of an innocent. A young man who tended to the stables. He had forgotten to tie down the horses in his haste to return to his ailing mother. The horses escaped and were lost. The man’s master demanded payment for his lost mounts and since he could not afford to pay, he was sent here. It was at that moment that made Serana wonder about the price of immortality. The more her family murdered the more cold and distant they grew. The greater the bloodshed, the more they lost their sense of kindness and honor. Then the day came, the 20th of Evening Star, Molag Bal’s summoning day. The priests were ready, other beautiful virgins were also there, taken by force, most were young, scared, innocent. Just listening to their cries was disheartening. My mother had them sent to him first. Their yells of terror, like a banshee’s earth shattering howl could be heard throughout the castle. My heartbeat quicken with fear with each yell I felt their grief, their anger, their fear. I absorbed it, my fist tightening as I mindlessly said,"I will absorb this ordeal."

“And yes, the gift shall be upon you,” my mother Valerica said. My mother was already cold, beaten, and somehow excited by the overall thought of the situation or as it seemed. My mother was sent in first only minutes before I was rushed in as well. The priests brought me into the temple, grasping tightly onto my arms. My eyes widen as I could see my mother being raped cruelly. Her clothes being ripped to shreds, her body increasing becoming exposed. I instinctively stepped back as the priest’s grip held firmly and pushed me forward. I pulled away afraid, this moment, it can not be worth immortality. Before I knew it I was before him. Molag Bal, a god and man rolled in one. His appearance was similar of a Dremora. He stared into my eyes for only seconds before ringing my neck with his free hand and with his other, he threw my mother aside. I gasped, wanting to yell but he held on to my neck too tightly as he pulled me in front of him and forced me to my knees. It was at that moment I was taken, broken, as I choked out a yell of horror. Forceful, painful, it was as if I was being torn to shreds. He suddenly turned me on my back, his claws digging into me, ripping my clothes to shreds, exposing my breast as he took me again. All the same choking me. Broken, tears streamed out of my eyes as I had given up hope. It was a foolish thought that one can avoid death. Anger rose within me, along with shame. As my visioned blurred, I laid lifeless as he continued to thrust into me. Then suddenly another soft yell. A beautiful blonde maiden was being thrust in front of Molag Bal. He paused and with it I felt it a drop of burning liquid upon my brow. Immediately he tossed me aside as he did my mother. The priests dragged us outside the doors and threw us aside.

It was the scream of terror of the young girl who brought me to my senses and with it all the pain of the world. Like my mother, exposed, beaten, we slowly crawled away from the scene.

“No more… No more…” my mother uttered as the young woman yelled. At that moment I heard footsteps, with little strength I lifted my head up to only get glimpse of my father who entered the room we just left. I was in too much pain to care of his well being. I only cared about living, only cared about making the pain go away. The screams stopped as the girl was tossed on floor behind my mother and I. It was at that moment I noticed, the other women before us. Some covered in blood, lifeless, lying as if they slept. Only the sounds of their weeping could be heard. Others dragged themselves away, one drank from a chalice. Her hand shaking, her eyes elsewhere. My father walked back out with a smirk upon his face. The sounds of his boots stepping on the cold stone floor stopped only momentarily.

“You’ll live,” he said simply and with it my mother and I along with others were suddenly picked up and dragged out of the room. They took my mother and I into a dark room where only a candle was lit. They bandaged my wounds and gave me herbs to sip on. With it I fell into darkness. When I had finally awaken I was outside in the courtyard, cold and shivering. I was covered in a light colored cloth. I took a deep breath and pulled it off. Within seconds a sharp piercing pain upon my brow as if someone had stabbed a dagger into my head, with it burned. The burning sensation spread through out my body, as I shrieked in pain. I heard my mother somewhere in the dark, she was near by shouting out as well. I hugged myself, shaking wrapped in pain. Smothered in it as I cried openly, freely just wanting the pain to stop. Praying for the pain to stop I shook and as time passed slowly the pain had stopped. My tears slowly stopped flowing for I had felt nothing. Too afraid to move, for I was afraid the pain would return. I blinked remembering my mother, was she okay? Was she no longer in pain as well? I gathered the strength and rolled over to my knees. I placed my hands firmly on the ground, with the moon’s bright light I noticed my pale skin, my strong pointed nails. I had changed, I sat upon my legs as I examined myself in wonder. A strength renew, power, and wonder, all at once. My mother’s footsteps were already by my side.

“Stand up my child and take your first steps…for you are reborn.”


	2. Early Childhood {Part 1}

# Early Childhood {Part 1}

When I was young my mother had told me that, my father, was perfectly happy with not having children. It took a great deal convincing him and so they decided to have one child just in case he had fallen from the throne. When I was born my mother was a bit disappointed. She worried that my father would be upset for I wasn’t a son. A true heir to pass down the Volkihar name. Though to her surprise he was not upset, nor ashamed that I was a female. If she had only had knew then, that my father had no intentions of giving up the throne or dying, perhaps she could of talked some sense into him before his obsession grew out of hand.

At the most part of my early childhood, I could say that my father had a great deal of respect for my mother. At the time I consider their interactions love but only now looking back, I’m sure I was mistaken. They’re lack of affection, even then was disappointing. I suppose respecting ones wishes is a form of love. I assumed that was my father’s way of showing his affection. When my mother asked for something he delivered and that was that. I could say I didn’t have much friends growing up. At the time I only knew three other children. One was a Jarl’s son who rarely came whenever his father visited. The other two belonged to our castle’s cook. I guess even then my father didn’t like sharing his space with children. The children Hamvir and Kirste rarely talked to me. Their mother Elda advised them not to. She also took them out with her everywhere they went. For the most part of my childhood I was _alone_.

I was not allowed to go anywhere outside the castle grounds without guards or other competent company. I was young and I was curious and I was bored. If I wasn’t learning how to read or helping mother with her alchemy experiments I was left to my own devices. Which meant getting into trouble. As a princess it soon occurred to me that I can get away with many things as long as it didn’t delay, harm, my mother or father personally, therefore I went unpunished. Banging guards helmets with sticks, throwing mud at the castle guards on guard duty, setting the sheep and horses loose. Though as most smart children we soon realize that having a tantrum and crying loudly enough could get you almost anything you want. I wanted to got outside the castle and off the island as much as possible. It was just a small misty island with dirt and grass. Out of frustration, from my yelling, my father would send me out to explore the land. Of course he never let me go out alone. He would send one of his court members Farvyn a young dunmer. He was wise, calm, and patient.

Every once in a while my father, would send me out with a few of his guards to help my mother collect alchemy ingredients that grew nearby. The guards would usually stay by the boat or head by the near by fort to have an ale. It was usually just Farvyn and I. I wasn’t much of an Alchemist but Farvyn knew enough. I would play in the meadows as Farvyn would collect ingredients. Stay away for the Nordic Burial grounds he warn me. So I obeyed for the most part. I would keep within his sight as I would bask in the sun, pick up flowers, chase butterflies and explore the wildlife around the surrounding areas. He would tell me stories about his life back in Morrowind and how he came to live in Skyrim. It was a fun time. All except for one.

I once managed to convinced Elda to let Hamvir and Kirste to come to a trip with me. Of course hesitant she agreed. The play started simple at first, chasing each other within the field but quickly Hamvir became bored and insisted we played something else. So we tried exploring, growing far from Farvyn’s sight. We found a cave and decided to go inside, his sister Kirste lost her footing-- stumbled. She fell quite a ways, yelling as she tumbled. Soon we made it toward her she was cut and bruised but wasn’t hurt too badly. They began to fight.

“See if we hadn’t stop playing chase! I wouldn’t be hurt!” Kirste yelled at her brother bitterly.

“Na-uh it’s not my fault! If Serana didn’t make us come none of this would be happening!” Hamvir yelled back.

“We were having fun before you-”

“Quiet!” I remember saying, I heard it something moving, something dark and scary. We heard the sound of rattling and the clunking or iron. We all stood there holding our breaths hoping it wasn’t what laid within all our minds. Though a loud growl came echoing toward them, eyes glowing, he stepped into the partial light. We all yelled frightened. It was a Draugr. We began to run out of the cave, yelling for our lives. Though we had gone too far for Farvyn to hear.

The Draugr followed us relentlessly so we split up though Kirste, younger and hurt, was slower than the rest. The Draugr saw easy prey and followed her instead. I knew if Kirste would get hurt their mother would never trust me and Farvyn again. I needed to do something quick. So I ran toward Kirste, I pushed her behind a boulder and told her to stay quiet. I yelled catching the Draugr’s attention. It worked he followed suit and I ran and ran with no other plan. I ran up towards the side of the mountain hoping the Draugr would tire as I did, yet he didn’t. He did not slip or lose his footing, he did not tire, did not fear. I grew exhausted as I continued to climb almost slipping myself. Until I reached a cliff, I was trapped, lost but I didn’t want to die. I remember chanting  _I don’t want to die, not yet,_  as I saw the Draugr gripping his sword catching up to me. I was going to die if I didn’t do anything quick. I glanced down the cliff behind me. I was very high up and it was very steep. I would certainly die if I fell, but I would die if I stayed. So I jumped grabbing onto whatever I could, my hands slipped off some rock but then I felt it. A root of a tree protruding from the mountain. I smiled gripping to the root tightly, until I saw the Draugr fall pass me growling as he fell with a loud thunk dropping his sword, his corpse sliding down lifelessly. I took a deep breath. As I gripped tighter onto the root. I was about seven to ten feet from the cliff. It took me another thirteen minutes to climb back up to the top. Another hour to find the others. Farvyn carried Kirste back home, he was punished. Not for what happened to Hamvir or Kirste but because he grew careless and I was out of his sight, I was in danger. That’s all my parents cared about. Not of Kirste’s wounds or well being. He was beaten severely, I remember the scars he had on his chest and back. Elda never let Hamvir or Kirste play with me again and a few months later she sent them out to to live with an aunt. I never saw them again. 


End file.
